The Sound of Silence
by tromana
Summary: The aftermath of Red John’s demise is enough to break them both. Jane/Lisbon


**Title:** The Sound of Silence  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon, Team, Red John  
**Disclamer:** I don't own the Mentalist. That's not going to change any time soon, either.  
**Summary:** The aftermath of Red John's demise is enough to break them both.  
**Notes:** Written for LJ community **dailyfics**. Prompt: Sound

**The Sound of Silence**

He can distinctly recall the creak of the floorboards as he crept around that dilapidated shack. His mind had been whirring at a thousand miles an hour, thoughts so loud that he was surprised that nobody else could hear them. Jane knew that he shouldn't have been surprised at his heightened perception to sound; it was, after all, what he had spent years yearning for. It was the reason why he had offered his services to the CBI in the first place. Red John wasn't going to escape and nobody was going to stop him. Not Sam Bosco, not Virgil Minelli and not… her… either. Whether or not he lived to see another day was another matter entirely and a point that didn't really matter. So long as he took down Red John with him, he didn't really care either.

Red John was nothing like Jane had imagined him. A normal man, someone that you wouldn't give a second glance if you walked past him on the street. Yet, he was the man who had taken the lives of so many innocent women, not to mention his wife and child. Why? He didn't really care to explain. Apparently, nobody else, not even Jane, would have understood. That had surprised Jane, too. Every other murderer, serial killer or otherwise, liked to gloat about their plans, their motives, their successes. But then again, Red John wasn't like every other murderer. He had always seen himself as above them. He had his theatrics, he had panache.

Everything had been silent from the moment that the tip of Jane's knife found Red John's heart. He still didn't know quite how he managed to come through it unscathed, barring a few cuts and bruises. There should have been plenty of noise. The screech of car tyres as the SCU had pulled up the drive, the sound of their footsteps as they broke into the building, their anguished screams as his blade plunged into the chest of his enemy. Jane cannot even remember the click of the handcuffs as one of them placed them around his wrists, as Lisbon had always promised to do so. The sound of silence was deafening on the drive back to the CBI headquarters, nobody knew what to say or do. He had warned them that it would come to this, though obviously none of them had believed him.

After he had been unceremoniously dumped in the interrogation room, he had wondered who would be able to face questioning him. After all, he seemed to only have his thoughts for company, even though he knew he should be able to hear other noises. He was certain that Van Pelt wouldn't, she was too young, too naïve and far too disappointed in him. But Cho and Rigsby? Both men had seen him as a brother, of sorts. Minelli? Would it have stretched up as high as him? There had been the odd occasion when they had used the boss of the CBI for interrogating suspects, but he did tend to leave it to his senior agents. Briefly, he had considered Bosco. They had never got on, never even bothered trying. What was the point? They were two very different men and the only reasons they ever chose to talk were over 'the case' or Teresa Lisbon. Jane had been surprised that Bosco was almost as proprietorial over Lisbon as he had been, but for very different reasons.

It had taken him a good five minutes to realise that the terribly beautiful, terribly stubborn, terribly fierce woman had taken the seat opposite him. It had disconcerted him somewhat, having her looking at him in such a way. Her pale green eyes were framed by heavy lids, a puffy redness and were filled with so many emotions, as they always were. Unfortunately, on that occasion, unlike usual, they were all negative. Lisbon had sighed and continually glanced down at her fingers, allowing them to entwine, untangling them again, stretching and flexing them, before repeating the process. Eventually, she had rested her hands on the stark desk, obviously trying not to cry. She couldn't allow herself to show any weakness in front of him.

"Why?"

One simple word had broken a heart that he didn't think was possible to break. When his wife had died, he had assumed that it had been shattered beyond repair and he hadn't even noticed the slow and steady reparations that had been occurring. He hadn't even noticed on the night before Red John's demise, when he had slowly and painfully stripped her of her clothing layer by layer and proceeded to make her cry out his name over and over. Lisbon, Teresa, had tentatively returned the compliment, unsure as to whether or not she was doing more damage by sleeping with him than letting her heart ache with desire. When they were both sated, she had curled up in his arms for the night while he allowed his fingertips to dance over her porcelain skin, tracing mindless patterns. But that was soon forgotten and despite the sorry eyes and sullen voice, she had been the epitome of professionalism during his questioning.

Jane was surprised that she had attended his trial and the subsequent sentencing. She wasn't there as a lover, friend, nor ex-boss. Lisbon had wanted to be there to confirm that justice was done and out of simple intrigue. It had been impossible for her to deny the feelings she had developed for him and it wasn't possible for her to switch them off like a light. Somehow, he had known that that would be the last time he would see her in the flesh. He couldn't expect a law enforcement professional to come and visit a convict, however much he wanted, needed her to. If only he had realised how much he needed her before he had carried out that reckless promise, then maybe he would have been able to have lived again rather than simply exist.

The white noise still deafened him now he was trapped behind bars. He had no distractions, nobody to listen to him, nobody to perform to. The other inmates didn't care much for magic tricks, nor being told little details about themselves time and time again. The rest of the team didn't visit him either; Jane had never expected them to. He knew that he didn't deserve their time, their compassion, but it still surprised him just how much it hurt.

end


End file.
